


Red Jedi

by ShaeTiann



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Don’t copy to another site, Fix-It, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, but not that kind of sith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-03-08 03:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaeTiann/pseuds/ShaeTiann
Summary: The Jedi Order struggles with many concepts. Fear. Attachment.Redemption may be the most difficult.





	1. Chapter 1

Patrolling the edge of the Unknown Regions, five hundred parsecs out from Bakura, was a dull and thankless task. The most excitement the Republic Judicial Ship _Koros_ saw was when the hyperlane survey teams commed for some much-needed socialization.

Lieutenant Cayne Tan’luth thought surveying might actually be the more thankless job: everyone used the hyperlane updates without ever considering the poor sentients who had to take the readings and make updates. But sitting on the edge of known space, the last point of contact for crazy intrepid pilots who wanted to see what was out there, was pretty damn dull.

Xie was playing digital pazaak against the computer when a light blinked on the comm console. Cayne’s breath caught -- they could go days without receiving any comms traffic at all -- and then whooshed out, because that was _not_ the comms diode.

It was the distress beacon receiver.

The captain was still off shift, but operational protocols applied. Head-tendrils twitching with increasing anxiety, the Nautolan officer opened the private channel -- no need to wake everyone else until they knew what they were dealing with. “Sorry to disturb you, Captain Farr, we’ve picked up a distress signal. Range is...” Xie sighed. “A long way. We might not be able to get there in time.”

There was the shuffling sound of someone flinging blankets out of the way. _“I don’t care, quad it and get Niko up.”_ She closed the channel without waiting for a response, leaving Cayne to wake the senior navigator.

Within half an hour everyone on the patrol cruiser was wide awake, even officers who by rights should have been sleeping. Cayne was still on comms, bouncing high-rate signals off distant beacons the regional explorers had been paid to drop off on their way into the intractable nothingness.

It wasn’t looking good. The distress beacon had been traveling for perhaps two hours before it reached them, meaning transit could take upwards of a couple Standard days. None of the explorer captains they had contact with were closer. There were no maps for this part of space, and making a straight-line jump put them at risk of meeting a black hole or other obstruction the hard way.

Niko, Raske, and Divi-Manom were the highest-paid crewmembers onboard, beyond even the Captain’s pay, and worth every credit for their navigational skills. Computers could process the information faster, but there were inexplicably talented sentients who just had better judgment in using the data, and Judicial hired as many as it could for their patrol vessels. All three navigators were logged in at the main and backup stations, absorbed in astrogation calculations.

Captain Farr was poring over streams of data from the cruiser’s sensor suite. The Rodian captain hadn’t bothered putting her uniform on before coming to the bridge, and had a fluffy green robe wrapped over her sleep clothes. Despite the informality of her appearance, she was all business, ordering emergency retrieval crews into preparation. The distress call indicated catastrophic life support failure for a ship complement of up to fifty individuals, likely a trading vessel of some sort. Odds of them being Republic-aligned were slim -- there were known governments in the impassible region which were separatist or outright hostile toward outsiders. Odds of them even understanding Basic were even lower.

But as Captain Farr had said when the _Koros_ had been recommissioned as a patrol ship: they had a duty to help. Cayne couldn’t resist a happy cheer as the comms system confirmed range and direction. Xie threw the coordinates to the Nav stations and straightened when Raske came over.

The Twi’lek navigator leaned over to speak quietly. “We have _no_ mapping of that sector at all. Can we try something experimental with the comms relays?” When Cayne nodded, she said, “Right, we need the coordinate locations of every comms buoy between here and there --  and further, if possible -- in a forty-five degree spread. We’re going to give you a signal to send out, at a particular frequency, and you need to tell us the delay and modulation -- if any -- when the signal comes back.”

Cayne’s dark eyes widened. “You want to use the comms buoys as a sonar net?”

Raske looked grim. “These people might not have two Standard days before they freeze to death or run out of air. If we can detect the obstacles between here and there--”

“Absolutely. I’m on it!”

 

* * *

 

Between the Nav and Comms teams, the crew were able to reduce transit time to less than two days. It was still longer than Captain Renela Farr liked, given a life support failure. If the victims were smart, they’d have moved to the escape pods, which had independent life support for up to fifteen days. Not _comfortable_ days, but it was better than nothing.

The moment they came out of hyperspace and got a scan of the area, her heart sank. The ship, of utterly alien design, floated adrift in an asteroid field around a cold dwarf star. The spread of debris indicated an internal pressure blowout far more than just a couple days previous.

Lieutenant Tan’luth’s hands were pressed to xir mouth in horror. “I thought maybe it had just happened. We must have drifted into range--”

“Keep it together, Lieutenant.” Easier said than done, and it was as much a reminder to herself as her crew. Renela clenched her fists to stop her fingers shaking. “Bioscans.”

Ensign Loren sighed heavily. “One. Only one. Looks like they got to the escape pod but didn't jettison.”

_“Rescue team ready to launch.”_

Renela nodded decisively. “Proceed.”

Being the captain meant leaving the interesting work to others. Rescue and salvage had once been her job, before someone had decided she was too competent at salvage to be wasted as a salvage officer. Renela missed getting her hands dirty. Listening to others taking the risk wasn't anything like the same.

Commander Ry commed from the salvage operation. _"It's a graveyard in here, Captain.”_

Expected, but unwelcome. "Any indication who they were, Commander?”

_“Negative. I've never seen anyone of this species before. Humanoid; red skin, dark hair, definitely not Zeltron. Nothing is written in Basic, I don't know if we can even interface with their computer.”_

At least they weren't Chiss. That elusive people would not take kindly to Republic crews tromping around their vessel. "Standard retrieval and recovery protocols, then. Team two, what's your status?”

There was a short pause before Lieutenant Amanay responded, _"Opening the escape pod now, sir. Medical team standing by."_ The high-pitched whine of the cutter sounded like a stream of static over the comm. _"One adult, appears to be standard humanoid female, unconscious-- oh!”_

“Lieutenant?”

_"Sorry, sir! Have medical prep the postnatal equipment, there's a baby, looks less than a year old!”_

At Renela's elbow, her second in command was already talking to the Medical staff. She glanced up at him. "You have the bridge, Commander Efti.”

By the time she got to triage, the rescued woman had been pulled from the retrieval pod. The room was frigid, to prevent exposed patients from warming up too quickly; Renela slipped one of the thermal lab coats over her uniform and shoved her hands into the pockets. The medic on shift, Doctor b'Tee, was taping sensor dots to the woman's forehead, neck, and just below her collarbone, looking grim.

“Amanay reported that the pod was nearly out of power," he explained. "What was left was apparently connected to a heater blanket wrapped around the kid. Adult sacrificed themself to save the child.”

It was a regrettably common occurrence, and didn't always save the child's life. Hopefully this time the effort hadn't been in vain.

Ry had been right about the people on the ship not being Zeltron. Despite the red tone to the unconscious woman's skin, there were subcutaneous ridges and even bone spurs on her cheekbones and jaw that matched no species Renela had ever heard of.

“Is the infant onboard yet?”

b’Tee didn't look up from his work. “Pataki has them in the main ward, kid's in much better shape.”

That was a relief. With the survivors safe, they could take their time gathering data on the ship. The _Koros,_ like most patrol ships, was equipped to manage medical emergencies of all types. b'Tee drew a quick blood sample to make sure the woman's physiology was compatible with bacta.

They were still waiting for the test results when she moaned and her eyes, deep gold with standard humanoid structure, flickered open. Doctor and Captain were at her side immediately, although being confronted by two unknown alien species might not have been the most comforting sight to wake up to.

 _“Ât- âtchok…”_ She shivered, but it was sluggish, and b'Tee gave Renela a grim look.

It was still the Captain's job to make first contact. “Do you understand Basic?”

The woman frowned at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused. “I… yes. This Basic?”

Well, that was a relief. Renela had to restrain herself from taking the woman's hand -- the temperature difference was still dangerous, although the room was gradually warming. “Yes. I'm Captain Farr, this is Doctor b'Tee. You're on a Republic patrol ship.”

Those glazed eyes widened. “Republic? Oh.” The woman's hand flailed weakly. “My… son. _Tsâkri-_ baby. Where--”

“He's safe,” b'Tee reassured her. “He's well.”

Something on the biobed was flashing, and Renela knew it was a bad sign, but she made an effort not to show it. “What were you doing out here?”

“Mining. Rock mining?” The woman drifted for a moment. “Go Republic?”

“You want us to take you to the Republic?” Renela had been about to ask who the woman wanted them to contact -- both for her and the kid and for funeral rites.

“Mm. Jedi.” Her fumbling fingers caught Renela's sleeve. “No- no time. Doctor knows.”

b'Tee met her eyes. “She's right,” the Arconan said softly. “There's organ failure we won't be able to repair in time.” He stepped away to load a hypo with painkillers. If they could do nothing else, they could ease the woman's passing.

Biting down on a curse, Renela looked back at the woman. “You said Jedi. You want us to take your son to the Jedi?”

She nodded. “He needs them.” Her shaking hand touched her breastbone. “My name is Kenobi. His name is Obiwan. Obiwan Kenobi.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos ensues

A tall, powerfully built man in his early fifties, Yan Dooku had spent more than his share of time in the Halls of Healing, largely aggravating the healers by not sitting still or resting when told. It wasn't often he was summoned without some preexisting necessity.

Unless his former Padawan had earned himself an injury and was making himself even more of a nuisance than Dooku did.

The young Knight on duty grinned at him as he entered. “Master Dooku. Who were you sparring this time?”

“As I entered under my own power, Knight Windu, it must not have been you,” he bantered back easily. “They put you on a Hall rotation?”

The teen shrugged. “The Council thought I should have a bit more experience before they send me on field rotations. I kind of agree: knowing how to deal with concussions and illnesses is important even if you're not a Healer.”

“Quite true.” Yan favoured him with a smile. “Healer Qayec asked to see me, actually. I'm not certain what for.”

“Ah.” Mace sobered. “I'll let her explain. She's in her office, go on down.”

The door was open, and when he peeked in, the Mirialan Healer was leaning over a creche bed intended for cool-environment species which had been placed beside her desk. She glanced up when he coughed gently. “Ah, Yan. Please come in. Close the door, if you don't mind?”

He did so and took a seat. “Did I miss an appointment?” He’d meant to tease, but something in her manner -- concern, perhaps, or a sense of grim determination -- made it awkward.

The older woman blinked large violet eyes at him. “What? No, no. We have something of a small quandary on our hands, and I thought you might have access to better information.”

He winced. “If you can’t resolve a medical problem, I doubt I can fare better.”

The infant in the bed made a fussy noise, and Qayec frowned. “This is less of a medical issue.” She scooped the baby -- grown enough for a humanoid to be nearly old enough to walk -- from the bed and carried it around to the second chair. “He was brought in yesterday, the sole survivor from a starship destroyed in the Unknown Regions. We've never seen his species before, but a genetic test identified him as eighty-three percent Sith species.”

Dooku's jaw dropped and he looked at the bundle with more interest. The infant's skin was pale red, stark against the unbleached linen of the loose tunic he wore, his head capped with downy dark hair. Dark gold eyes peered around and locked on Dooku's face with the intensity of one attempting to memorize everything. His features could have been mistaken for human, but for faint ridges in his skin which, if Dooku recalled correctly, would become more pronounced with maturity.

Scowling, Qayec continued, “The Council is in an absolute uproar over him. I don't _care_ what species he is, he needs to eat! Safely! We don't have enough information to properly care for him.” She freed one of her hands and reached over to the desk for a labeled datadisk. “The Judicial crew who found the ship were able to copy the databanks, but translation is difficult because the majority of Sith language information is _here,_ in the Temple. Most of this is probably worthless to us, but we took a copy anyway.”

Yan reached forward to touch the little boy's hand. Small fingers -- five, in a configuration suggesting dominant human ancestry traits -- gripped his own tightly. “Do we know his name?”

Qayec's face fell. “Sadly, yes. His mother was alive when they were found, but only just. She named him 'Obiwan Kenobi’.”

“Obiwan….” he murmured. In the Force, the child glowed. It wasn't as bright as it could have been, suggesting recent malnourishment and trauma the child couldn't possibly comprehend. “What's the Council's trouble over him?” He could guess, but he wanted details.

“The Sith species is rumoured to be inherently connected to the Dark side of the Force. They fear his influence here.”

Yan scoffed. “Oh, nature versus nurture, is it? That's mere prejudice talking, not reason. There's nothing Dark about him, no more so than any other infant. I'll see what I can find for you, and quickly, too.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you so much, Yan. You don’t know what a relief it will be.”

Little Obiwan was still staring at him. Yan gave the infant what he hoped registered as a nice smile through his beard. “Oh, I think I can imagine it. If the Council troubles you over any treatments I find, I will speak to them. A baby cannot be that frightening, surely.”

As if in response, the child’s face creased in a massive grin. “YA!”

“Fast learner, are we?” Yan retrieved his hand from the grasping little fingers. “You’ll have your hands full once he’s back to proper health.”

“I’m hoping to get leave to place him in the creche with the others. At the very least, he needs the socialisation and lessons.” She was still smiling, but her tone was grim. “I’ll duel every Councilor personally over it.”

Despite her calling as a healer, Qayec had been one of their clan’s best at open-hand combat, surpassed only by Yan himself with a ‘saber; there was little doubt that she would do exactly that, if necessary. Yan chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple at the edge of her wrap. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

 

* * *

 

 

He was deep in the restricted-access portion of the Archives, up to his eyebrows in notes and research data when someone politely cleared their throat behind him. Yan turned and smiled when he recognized Jocasta Nu. Another of their clanmates, Jocasta had been named Chief Librarian ten years previous, one of the youngest to earn the title at forty-three.

She was also a member of the Jedi High Council, and Yan gave her a raised eyebrow. “I’m guessing you know why I’m here.”

Jocasta held her composure for a few seconds more before deflating with an eyeroll toward the heavens. “They’re still arguing about him. Council session ended two hours ago and they’re _still in there._ Qayec told me she’d asked you for help.”

“Indeed.” He was currently searching through the Order's small collection of Sith holocrons. Over the years, he'd convinced several to actually converse with him, and a few were even polite. None came from an actual member of the Sith race -- they certainly had some Sith ancestry, but nearly all the Lords were near baseline human. He had a list of notes on what the individual Lords had known, but what he really needed was a primary source.

How many such data repositories had been destroyed over the millennia? It hurt to think about it.

Yan turned back to the holocron he currently had active and nodded respectfully. “My apologies, Lord Haar. I thank you for your information.”

The projection of a reedy, dark-haired woman peered past him. “Is that little Jocasta?”

Jocasta disliked talking to the Sith holocrons, but she bowed. “Greetings, Lord Haar.”

“I suppose you weren't yanking my chain about the Sith infant, then, Dooku?”

“My Lord, I would never joke about such a thing.” They had all been understandably sceptical -- and suspicious. The Sith had little reason to trust that the Jedi might deal fairly with one of their own.

The hologram frowned and looked from Yan to Jocasta and back. “There is a holocron belonging to Lord Kael, a Sith pureblood, which may be accessible. It's on Coruscant right now.”

Yan had known the holocrons maintained a level of self-awareness; this was the first time any had suggested they could perceive beyond their limited sphere. If he asked how she knew, however, Lord Haar might clam up on him. It was a matter for later exploration. “Do you happen to know how I might find it? I'm guessing it's in a private collection rather than buried under four thousand years of rubble.”

“As amusing as it would be to watch a Jedi digging through the lower mid-levels, you're correct: a private collector has it. He's a businessman, fascinated with antiquity, or so I understand. His name is Hego Damask.” There was something in her eyes that put Yan on edge. Anticipation? Amusement? Haar had not been a kind person in life, and her holocron would be little better. Sith liked to seed bits of their essence into such things.

Jocasta definitely wanted to ask questions but was restraining herself. It wasn't until Yan had made note of the names -- Hego Damask, Lord Kael -- thanked Lord Haar, and locked everything away that she gripped his arm.

“I don't like it, Yan. Sith don't offer free information for no reason.”

“No, they don't,” he agreed. “But what are the other options? I don't trust sources written by non-Sith to be unbiased, and we're talking about a child's health, not arcane matters.”

She frowned. “Don’t go alone; in fact, take Sifo with you so you have some accountability with the Council.”

He chuckled and tucked the case containing his work under his arm, freeing his hands to take hers. “I have to make contact and get permission first, love. If this Magister Damask refuses to allow access, there’s little we can do but take a chance with the information we’ve gained.” It was limited: the Sith homeworld of Korriban was a cold desert. What notes they had regarding diet indicated something more carnivorous, similar to the majority of Zabrak, but the little one’s growing incisors indicated that a predator’s diet might not be suitable until a later stage of maturity.

Force, they had no idea about his maturity stages at all. Yan desperately hoped Magister Damask would be accommodating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Jedi Masters visit Hego Damask

When Yan commed the publicly available code for Magister Hego Damask, a protocol droid answered.

_"Greetings, Gentlebeing! You have reached Damask Holdings, a subsidiary of the Intergalactic Banking Clan. How may I assist you?"_

Yan offered a smile. "Greetings. I am Jedi Master Yan Dooku. I have a small matter of some urgency which I wish to discuss with Magister Damask. What would be involved in arranging a personal meeting?"

The droid twitched in an affect of surprise. _"It is a pleasure to speak to you, Master Dooku! The Magister does not often engage personally. I would need more details first, and then the Magister will decide if it is worth his extremely valuable time."_

Of course. Yan considered himself fortunate that it wouldn't require making formal petitions. "Very well. The Magister is known to have some interest in artifacts of antiquity, and we understand that he has in his possession a particular data repository which I need to consult in order to resolve a small but urgent matter for the Order. I have no desire to claim more of his time than absolutely necessary."

The droid paused. _"Urgent, you say?"_

How best to phrase it? He didn't expect someone connected with the IGBC to care much for Order business, but he needed a suitable explanation. "It concerns the health of a member of the Order."

_"I see! If you would please hold, I will convey your request to the Magister."_

At Yan's nod, the droid set its end of the link to a holding state which slowly scrolled a description of the services offered by Damask Holdings. He didn't have long to wait: after a few minutes, the droid returned.

_"I am pleased to announce that Magister Damask will see you. He is available for forty-five minutes at seventeenth hour this evening. Is this acceptable?"_

It was a miracle the Magister wasn't going to make him wait a week; perhaps mentioning the child's health concerns had been the key, after all.  "That is superb. It will just be myself and a member of the High Council attending."

_"Very good, Master Dooku. You will be expected at 5760 Lucidium at seventeen-hundred hours. Thank you for contacting Damask Holdings. Good day!"_

 

* * *

 

5760 Lucidium turned out to be an entire cloudscraper building in the heart of the Business District. The droid which greeted Yan and Sifo at the entrance led them to a lift, which had no buttons at all beyond the usual emergency summons, plugged the tip of its finger into the access port on the wall outside, and sent them rocketing up toward what Yan guessed was likely the penthouse level.

Sifo glanced at him. They had both dressed in nicer, semiformal robes, with Yan favoring darker russet shades while Sifo wore a deep blue which intentionally matched his eyes. "Do you need me to say anything, my friend?"

Yan shook his head. "You're the assurance for the High Council that I'm being completely responsible."

"You? Responsible? They'd never believe me."

The lift opened on a wide, multi-level living space, with two balconies wrapping around three sides facing a wall made entirely of transparisteel. Two conversation circles of plush chairs around low tables took up most of the floor space; everything was simple but manufactured of high quality materials. Even the graceful floor sculpture between the conversation circles was fashioned of aurodium, exquisite and expensive. The place had the aura not of a personal residence but of a showplace where guests were entertained.

Another droid guided them to one of the conversation circles and offered tea, making its master's apologies. "Magister Damask has been kept overlong, I'm afraid, but he will arrive shortly. Please do make yourselves comfortable, honored guests."

Yan had done some research in the intervening time, both on the Magister and on Lord Kael. As with most sentients associated with the IGBC, Damask was a Muun, a towering, graceful people with flattened features and elongated craniums. The Magister himself had a fair reputation with no marks against him from Judicial, which meant he was incredibly shrewd and successfully conducted his shadier business in ways that didn't garner attention.

Yan didn't trust him at all. Fortunately, they weren't intending to do business with the man.

Damask arrived a few minutes later, as Yan and Sifo were discussing their former padawans' latest antics.

"My friends, I am so sorry to keep you waiting!" His voice was deep and soft, with a hint of rasp, and he stooped graciously in response to the Jedi Masters' bows. "This time of the month is not the easiest, but when Ceeten told me a Jedi wished to consult regarding history, I knew it must be important. Please! Sit." Once they were seated and the serving droid had poured tea for the Magister, he said, "I understand this is in regards to one of the antique holocrons I have acquired over the years?"

Yan took the lead. "I am Jedi Master Yan Dooku, this is Jedi High Councilor Sifo-Dyas. We're investigating a matter of some urgency, and it's been brought to our attention that you have come into possession of the holocron of the Sith Lord Kael, which may hold the answers we seek."

"Ah! Kael's holocron. A marvelous piece, very unusual." Damask sipped delicately at his tea. "Did you know Kael was something of a heretic in his day? Oh, yes, made friends with all sorts of questionable types, including Jedi! Quite scandalous for a man of his standing. The base for his holocron is in fact of _Jedi_ origin, not Sith; likely because by the time he crafted it, he had been in exile from the Sith Empire for several years. You merely wish to consult with him?" He smiled thinly. "I recognize the Order's desire to retain such knowledge for itself, but many such holocrons have been destroyed by the fearful and the vengeful."

Nodding his understanding, Yan said, "As we discovered in the course of our work. It's extremely distressing to think of how much has been lost over the centuries. We only wish to ask the holocron some questions, if it still functions."

"Oh! It's entirely functional, yes. Lord Kael is a most accommodating sort." Damask rose and gestured with a long, bony hand. "I keep such valuables in a secured vault, you understand. If you would follow me?"

The second lift, hidden at the rear of the main floor, was far more utilitarian than the first. They descended several floors and exited into a cool, dimly lit cavernous warehouse space lined with glowing databanks and artifacts under protective fields. Jocasta would have been in awe of the level of preservation which had been invested in the place.

Damask led them down the main aisle to an enclosed room. Several holocrons of varying age hovered in stasis fields over a worktable, some few seething with dormant malice, others exuding peace. The Magister selected one, a silver cube with rounded corners which glowed amber from the inside, and cupped it between his palms.

"This is Lord Kael's holocron. It likely does not need to be said, but please do not remove any of the other holocrons from the stasis fields." His chuckle was dry. "Some of them have more… volatile personalities."

Yan accepted the cube reverently, marveling at the warmth it radiated. Sifo spoke up, sounding apologetic.

"Unfortunately, as this is Order business, we must request some privacy while we work."

Damask didn't even blink. "I suspected as much, although I will confess to some curiosity. This door will seal behind me," he said, pointing to the room's only exit. "When your work is completed, simply press the button and I will escort you out."

Sifo's dark eyebrows twitched. "Do you often have scholars conduct research here?"

"Quite frequently, although only when I am available. Droids can be interfered with, and I prefer to maintain a personal touch with my collection." Damask bowed and departed, the door seal hissing behind him.

Yan and Sifo exchanged a look. Sifo turned his gaze to the cube in Yan’s hands. “Let’s see what Lord Kael has to say.”

With the lightest touch of the Force, the holocron opened like some sort of metallic flower and a quarter-height hologram formed above it of a humanoid man dressed in surprisingly casual garments for a Sith Lord -- almost spacer’s leathers rather than robes or armour. It was impossible to tell how tall he had stood in life, but Lord Kael’s lean physique was similar enough to Yan’s that he had likely been quite the swordfighter. Long red hair cascaded around a sharp, vulpine face of a lighter shade, and keen golden eyes regarded them curiously.

_“A pair of Jedi! My afterlife has been made.”_ His voice was deep, although slightly marred with digitized scratchiness, and accented with something very similar to Yan’s adopted Coruscanti lilt. _“What can I do for you, gentlebeings?”_

Yan offered a polite bow, Sifo following his example a moment later. “Lord Kael, I am Master Yan Dooku, this is Master Sifo-Dyas. We have an urgent matter that we believe you might be able to assist with.”

The Sith’s eyes lit with amusement. _“How very mysterious! Are you going to make me guess what it is?”_ He grinned with good humour, baring a set of decidedly sharp carnivore’s teeth.

Yan ignored the sound of Sifo stifling a giggle. “In short, your species is all but extinct, and information on… well, _everything,_ frankly, is potentially subject to bias. We need unbiased, primary-source information.”

The hologram folded his arms across his chest, considering them carefully. _“Now why would you need information about the Sith_ species _after all this time, and urgently? Unless someone found a surviving Sith colony? Those fools on Tund barely count anymore,”_ he scoffed.

“An infant,” Yan clarified.

Kael sobered quickly. _“I understand the urgency, then. I’m guessing your healers gave you a list?”_

Sifo produced his datapad. “May we record this, both audio and visual?”

_“Of course.”_ Kael frowned, sharp brow ridges arching over silver piercings in the bridge of his nose. _“The child is likely suffering malnourishment, you’ll want to make certain there’s no confusion.”_

They spent the next few minutes getting dispassionately clinical details about dietary needs (primarily protein with fruit or vegetable as needed, particular focus on certain chemicals the species couldn’t manufacture biologically), care requirements (exceptional levels of physical contact in the first couple years), ideal environment (cool and arid), maturity cycles (similar to baseline human, which was a relief), and life expectancy (naturally around three hundred years, potentially longer for individuals strong in the Force).

“Is it true that the Sith have a symbiotic bond with the Dark Side?” Sifo asked. It had been a common point in the information they had found previously, and one of the High Council’s primary objections to housing the infant in the Temple.

Kael laughed. _“Are they still saying that? No. That myth was spread as a justification for what became known as the Time of Bleeding.”_ He arched a brow-ridge at them mockingly. _“It’s so easy to excuse genocide if you believe the victims are beyond redemption.”_

“You weren’t alive then.” Yan winced; he hadn’t meant to sound accusing. The genocide enacted against the Sith species two thousand-odd years before had been brutal, and the historians in the Order were torn on whether that time should be viewed as a stain or a triumph.

_“No, but I designed my holocron to acquire new information. Most of us did, and we all bore witness to those events. What’s the point of being an information repository if you can’t keep up with the times?”_ Kael clasped his hands behind his back and paced the width of his projection field. _“Korriban is a nexus of the Dark Side. Any people originating from a nexus world will by necessity develop an affinity for that nexus world’s attunement. But that doesn’t mean the opposite attunement is inimical to their existence. If the infant you’ve acquired was raised away from a nexus world, it should find no difficulty adapting.”_

Sifo sighed quietly with relief. “That will help, some.”

The Sith Lord’s smile was sour. _“I’m not surprised you’re having difficulty gaining acceptance for the idea. I, myself, engaged directly in using the Light Side -- which is why they exiled me. Well,”_ he barked a humourless laugh. _“I exiled myself. I believe the actual sentence was meant to be death by torture. So you may assure your Council that your infant poses no spiritual danger to your Temple.”_

Fascinated, Yan asked, “You… changed your alignment? May I ask why?”

_“Ah, that’s a longer tale for another time. You did say your matter was urgent, after all, and your healers will be wanting that information.”_ The Sith Lord offered what appeared to be a genuinely friendly smile, despite the display of fangs. _“You are, of course, welcome to come back. Damask uses me more as a trophy display piece; he doesn’t have much to discuss with me. It gets terribly dull after a while.”_

It was, indeed, growing late. Yan bowed as Sifo put his recording equipment away. “We thank you very much for your time, Lord Kael. I look forward to discussing more with you, when matters are not quite so dire.”

Kael’s bow in return had a charmingly antique flourish. _“Guard your backs, Jedi. You never know who’s watching them.”_ The hologram vanished and the holocron closed before either of them could ask what the Sith had meant.

Magister Damask escorted them out, also encouraging them to return if they required further information -- _“My collection does no good hiding in the dark, after all. Nobody appreciates what they cannot see!_ \-- and summoned an aircar to return them to the Temple.

It was only when they were halfway to the Halls of Healing that Yan paused, struck by a thought. “Sifo… if it requires the touch of the Force to activate a holocron, how is Magister Damask able to converse with them?”

Sifo had turned to look at him when he’d stopped; now his friend shrugged. “Latent abilities? There are many whom the Order doesn’t accept who still have some small potential. I’ve been on the Council’s case for ages to dispense with the midichlorian testing, it’s too arbitrary.”

“Hmm. Possibly.” Yan frowned. “Perhaps I shall ask the holocrons next time.”

“You do intend to go back?”

He started walking again. “Unless Magister Damask chooses to sell his collection, we have little choice but to have access at his whims. Much of that information could be useful to those who would not have the political weight to gain admittance. I will ask if he minds us making recordings.”

 

* * *

 

“That was all they wanted?”

_“What do you want me to say? They needed information on Sith biology, and even you have to admit you haven’t found any more holocrons from Sith Pureblood lords.”_

“None that aren’t hoarded by my apprentice. It’s amusing how he believes I don’t know about them.”

_“Anyway, you can put your spleen back in, I didn’t give away your little secret to the scary Jedi Masters. Are you happy?”_

“Immeasurably. So. They found a Sith child. I shudder to think what they might teach it, but there’s no way to rescue an unusual infant without earning a great deal of attention. This must be handled delicately.”

_“Yes, stars forbid the child learn anything negative about the Dark Side.”_

“Consider yourself fortunate that you’re too valuable to electrocute, Kael.”

_“But it would be a tale for the ages! The great Sith Lord, heir to the line of Bane, defeating a holocron for having a snappy attitude. How the mighty line has fallen.”_

“If you’re quite done, you can go back into your box.”

_“Go fuck yourself, Plagueis.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters can say the wiki is wrong because the wiki is written from an in-universe perspective and is therefore an unreliable narrator.
> 
> Any resemblance between characters and SWTOR OCs is entirely intentional.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Council confers.

“Like this, I do not.” Grandmaster Yoda frowned heavily at Yan and Sifo. They had come before the full Council to share what they had learned from Lord Kael’s holocron -- after delivering a datapad Sifo had playfully titled  _ Care and Feeding of Baby Sith _ to Healer Qayec -- and they stood together in the centre of the floor. “In the possession of a non-Jedi, a Sith holocron should not be.”

“Why did you not bring the matter before the Council prior to making your arrangements, Master Dooku?” Master Rancisis asked. “We could have acquired the holocron legally from this collector, for their own safety.”

Yan resisted the urge to sigh. Carefully, he said, “With respect, Master Rancisis, the wealthy strongly dislike being asked to give up their trophies, even for their own good. If the Council had made such a demand first, we might never have been granted access at all. The priority was to acquire information vital to the survival of a Temple resident. The holocron’s owner has indicated they would be pleased to allow access again in the future.”

They had deliberately not revealed Magister Damask as the owner of the holocron. Jocasta, in her own seat just out of view to Yan’s left, was the only other person in the room who knew. If the Council chose to push to acquire Kael’s holocron, it would be Jocasta’s purview, anyway.

Master Yoda’s eyes narrowed. “Remains to be seen, if resident of this Temple the child becomes. Continue, you may.”

Surely they weren't still on the fence about that? Yan cleared his throat. "The holocron in question happened to have been created by a Sith Lord who practised the Light in secret." Ignoring the sideways glances that traversed the room, he added, "I suspect the holocron itself evaded notice because it was, indeed constructed using Jedi technology. Sith holocrons from his time period tend to be pyramidal in shape, while Lord Kael's was a cube. Moreover, it exuded no hint of Darkness."

Tyvokka, Master of the Order, looked at Sifo, who nodded. "Master Dooku is correct. Whilst he was conversing, I studied the holocron itself. I believe the information it shared to be unbiased and reliable."

[[Now that the infant's welfare has been addressed, the question of whether he should be allowed to remain in the Temple is our greatest concern,]] Master Tyvokka rumbled quietly. [[Is this infant a potential threat?]]

A frown pinching his brow, Yan replied, "Only if we allow ourselves to be divided. Lord Kael confirmed that many suppositions regarding his species are mere speculation based on incomplete knowledge."

Sifo took a half step forward. "The concern that was voiced here previously, that the infant might serve as a vector for the Dark side into the Order, has its basis in a myth that was propagated thousands of years before. We have all seen and examined the infant in question, and agreed--" he didn't say  _ reluctantly _ but the implication hung heavy in the air-- "that he feels no more Dark, nor no less Light than any other recently-received youngling. He is also strong enough in the Force that going without basic training in controlling his power will make him a risk to others as he matures. The holocron indicated that, given nurturing and education, the child has the potential to grow up in the Light." 

Yan offered a slight smile, just the barest twitch of his cheek. "If nothing else, we have Lord Kael's own example to consider. What material I could find on him confirms his claim that he made his turn towards the Light as an adult, consciously and with full knowledge of the punishment he might receive if his peers discovered the truth."

The Force equivalent of several Jedi Masters grumbling with disquiet shivered through the room. Resistance was only to be expected: this whole situation was challenging the long-held belief that a brush with the Dark side polluted a Force user permanently. Kael had still subscribed to the Sith philosophy, which had left an immense body count in his wake and several worlds claimed for the Empire by Kael’s hand. Despite that, the records from the trial he’d been subjected to  _ in absentia _ \-- the Dark Council had been unable to capture him or his associates -- had been very specific in regarding his turn to the Light as a betrayal of the Empire he’d served faithfully for years. 

It was not an easy situation to reconcile with a perspective which had little freedom for nuance. In his time, Kael had been an outcast everywhere: unwelcome in the Republic, wanted for execution by the Empire, unrepentant to the end and supported only by a few like-minded students who had followed him into unclaimed space. The Jedi Council had considered him irredeemable despite his willingness to cooperate with individual Jedi, and it was clear the sentiment remained millennia later.

Master Difusal, who had been silent for the majority of the session, spoke up. “The question is whether we should allow a Sith child to remain at the Temple. We have all been in his presence. Can any of us dispute that the infant feels no different in the Force than any other?”

There was a round of “no”s, some more reluctant than others. Difusal sighed. “I am uncertain of the wisdom of keeping him among our people, however it cannot be denied that a Force-strong child needs both guidance in self-control and socialization to ensure they do not pose a danger to themself and others. The Chalactan Temple has offered to take him in--”

Master Yoda surprised them by shaking his head. “If in the care of the Jedi he remains, under the watch of the High Council he must be.”

Yan stroked his beard thoughtfully. “We have time to let him prove his own nature; and we must remember that it was by his dying mother’s request that he be brought to us.”

“Attached to this matter, you have become, my Padawan.”

_ Oh, no, you don’t, you old troll. _ Yan carefully kept the scowl from overtaking his expression. “It’s the Jedi Order’s duty to guard the Light in all things, Master Yoda. Does that not include children from unusual backgrounds? Kael suggested the child could adapt, given an affirming environment.”

“And the word of a Sith, you trust so readily?”

“In order to be Sith, one must know and accept the philosophy.” Yan’s eyes narrowed. “Or do you believe a humanoid child who is not yet a Standard year old has already learned so much?”

Master Tyvokka’s brow arched as the elder Wookiee regarded Yan. [[You have advocated strongly for the infant, Master Dooku. Healer Qayec has, as well. Who among the Council advocates for the infant Obiwan Kenobi?]]

Six hands went up. Sifo and Jocasta were unsurprising, already having some familiarity with the infant Kenobi, nor was Micah Giiett, the most likely of all the Council to advocate taking a risk. Both Yaddle and Yarael Poof possessed more compassion than half the rest of the Order, and Yan had suspected they would stand in support purely based on the fact of the child’s innocence. 

Even Piell, however,  _ was _ a surprise. The heavily-scarred Lannik was usually very conservative and traditionalist in his views, but his hand was still raised. Noticing he had everyone’s astonished attention, he grumbled, “Master Dooku has a valid point. Why else do we take in younglings from infancy?  We have no idea how he will develop as he grows, but would it not be better to guide him towards the Light than leave him struggling? What would we even do otherwise with him? He cannot be abandoned, and keeping him in isolation would only encourage resentment and other Dark emotions. We would do him and the Force no favours.”

“I’ve spoken with both Healer Qayec and several of the Crechemasters,” Micah said. “Master Vant of Katarn Clan has offered to keep special watch over him.”

[[Master Vant was a Shadow in her time, wasn’t she? A strong choice,]] Master Tyvokka said, nodding decisively.

“But everywhere at once, she cannot be,” Yoda argued. His long ears were twitched back, indicating his displeasure at the situation. “Master Dooku, as our most knowledgeable Sith scholar you are, maintain watch over Kenobi and his education you will.”

Yan blinked. It had been purely by chance that he’d been in the Temple at this time at all; the council had been making increasing use of his diplomatic skills to soothe ruffled tempers in the Colony Worlds and beyond. If he was meant to oversee the child-- “I assume you would want regular reports on his progress,” he said smoothly. At his former Master’s firm nod, Yan added, “Then you will need to schedule a different diplomat for the negotiations on Donovia next week, as well as the representative for the Life Day celebrations on Onderon and the second semiannual planting festival on Dantooine. I have a list, actually.” He didn’t really expect the fact of his high demand to sway Yoda once the old troll had made a decision, but the Council could bloody well do the work themselves.

The other Masters cast glances at each other as Yoda’s gaze bored into Yan. “Replacements, we will find.”

Perhaps it hadn’t been  _ purely _ chance. Yan bowed in acceptance. “I will send the list of my appointments to Master Tyvokka, then.”

“One further question, if I may,” Master Rancisis said. “This collector. Did they have any  _ other _ holocrons in their possession?”

Yan frowned, thinking. There  _ had _ been only the one holocron on display, hadn’t there? Locked in a secure room towards the rear of the vault. He glanced at Sifo, who shook his head, “No, Master Rancisis, that was the only one.”

 

* * *

 

Slipping into the Coruscant Temple unnoticed had seemed, in his youth, a thrilling game. To be directly within the sanctum of his enemy with none the wiser still amused him, although it was a pedestrian matter. The Temple Guard, deeply linked to the Temple itself in the Force, had long ago been co-opted through the presence of a forgotten Sith shrine at the Temple’s heart; with a twitch of his fingers, they accepted his presence as one of their own. But better to be safe than draw unnecessary attention. He pulled the Force around himself, creating a cloak of misdirection which would cause any who noticed him to forget his presence once he had passed. Misdirection was a speciality of his; even the most renowned masters of the Order would fail to remember him.

The atmosphere of the Halls of Healing prickled against his skin: concentrated Light but also notes of pain, fear, sorrow, anxiety. It would be child’s play to twist those threads, to tease and torment, but that was not why he was here. 

A Healer and a Jedi -- an Initiate Clanmaster from the emblem on her robe -- emerged from a door further up the hallway.

“We’ll be keeping him a few more days to make certain he’s responding well to the supplements, and then he’s all yours,” the Mirialan Healer was saying.

The Twi’lek woman smiled brightly. “The little ones are already looking forward to meeting their new little brother.”

Both women shivered suddenly. Qayec frowned. “That’s quite a draft. I should check the environmental controls.”

“Of course. I’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe we can bring Obiwan to visit the clan for a bit during the day.”

In the room behind them, a tall silhouette stared bemused around what was clearly creche for particularly young sentients. Five of the tiny, waist-height beds were occupied, the little ones sleeping happily. Human, Ithorian, Rodian, another human. And Sith.

He paused, gazing down at the little crimson-skinned child. The datapad on the side of the bed displayed a long list of data -- care instructions, biology notes, feeding times. And a name.

A smile crossed Darth Plagueis’ face. “Hello, little Obiwan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering why I'm spelling Obi-Wan's name differently, it's not a typo. How was the _Koros'_ s crew supposed to know there was a hyphen there when his mother told them?

**Author's Note:**

> So welcome to the crack that's been eating my brain for the last few months! It started with a thought experiment -- how would Obi-Wan's path have changed if he was one of the last known True Sith (answer: HIS path wouldn't change much from the Jedi Apprentice novels, where he's already treated like a dangerous outcast) -- and then expanded into wondering what effect that might have on everything else.
> 
> And nobody would put the effort into reminding me I already have one massive project rolling. In fact, they started cheering me on, cus they're evil enablers.
> 
> To any hardcore nerds saying _But the Sith don't have an 'eh' or 'b' sound in their language":_ The Sith language was created by someone who was just trying to put evil-sounding syllables together for the comics, and anyway after this long, there's been more species intermixing and this family has different naming conventions, because I said so. ;P
> 
> Uh... Happy 20th anniversary, OT?


End file.
